


The Doctor and the Trickster

by TheOtherAdler



Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherAdler/pseuds/TheOtherAdler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way to somewhere else, the TARDIS changes course to pick up a new passenger in mid-transit to Earth--Loki. The Eleventh Doctor is faced with the difficulty of uncovering his unexpected passenger's mysterious purpose and trying to convince him to spare the Earth. And if he can't, the inevitability of stopping him at any cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is two firsts for me: First crossover fic, and the first one I've posted here with no sex scenes. XD
> 
> As with my other multi-chapter fics, I'm aiming for 1-2 chapters a night. Purists, please excuse any liberties taken with the Doctor Who universe. I'm not terrible well-versed so I'm really just winging it and having fun.

It wasn't the first time that the TARDIS had veered from its expected route, and even though the Doctor tapped stubbornly on console with something that looked like a small wrench--which, coincidentally, was exactly what it was--there was no change in its new course.

"No! No, no, no, _no_. Come on, I have to meet Scotty for lunch, I promised I'd be there!" Dropping the spanner as his machine lurched petulantly, he sighed and leaned over the gears and buttons in resignation. "...I'll be _late_ ," he complained to no one in particular, or maybe just to the TARDIS itself. Or _her_ self, as he tended to think of the old blue box with all the wonders of the universe inside. And as with all women, she truly had a mind of her own.

Sighing, he gave up and stood, stepping back from the controls. "Well. I suppose I could always go back and arrive early instead, but that's not the _point_! I'm the driver, you're the machine, you're supposed to follow the course I set! ...Not that you usually _do_ , but it really would be a nice change of pace..."

Honestly, he'd already given up--if there was something that he needed to see or somewhere that he needed to go, she would lead him there as always. But it was still lunch time, and at this point his options were limited to toast with jam and Mongolian milk tea. Not that there was anything _wrong_ with Mongolian milk tea, but he'd been looking forward to sharing the meal with Mr. Fitzgerald and now saw that possibility disappearing into the distance. Well, at least he might still have time for that toast before she landed.

\----

Loki bowed his head in false modesty, laughing unheard to himself as the alien troops cheered below him. There was no denying their enthusiasm at least, but he could only hope their skill in battle was a match for it.

He ascended to the device, his pale, thin face outlined eerily by the bright blue radiance of its power source, the wind catching his coat and whipping the trailing ends against his legs. In his hand, the scepter was a reassuring weight that almost seemed to _hum_  with power. He liked that feeling--the weapon was so very much like _him_ ; a shape-shifter that could fit seamlessly into any setting, capable of both destruction and creation, and occasionally given to unexpected tricks and unanticipated shocks, especially if handled incorrectly. It gave him a sense of completion and solidified his sense of purpose. At last, he was a match for the idiot who still called him "brother." Thor had Mjolnir--which should, by rights, have been his--and now, Loki had his scepter. Certainly a more fitting prize for a king, he thought with a grim sense of satisfaction.

He had been cast into the darkest part of Hel and fought his way through it to arrive at this moment, and if others questioned his sanity, Loki would only laugh in delight as the shimmering blade cut them down. He'd never felt more perfectly aware or more certain of himself than he was at this moment. Hel was nothing. He would rule, and all the bleak moments of his past would be forgotten.

Crouching in place to shield as much of his body as possible from the searing radiation, he waited with a hungry anticipation as the apparatus whirred to a deafening pitch. There was no bracing himself for the jolt of being snatched up and thrown from one point to another but he tried all the same, his knuckles white as he gripped the handle of his weapon tightly. This was going to hurt.

\----

As toast with jam went, it wasn't bad, particularly when paired with the buttery taste of the tea. Midway through the second slice, of course, the TARDIS began to rock and jostle until his cup was all but up-ended. Typical really, but there was a certain tingle of excitement as the Doctor realized that something new and potentially important was about to happen. As it began to pitch more wildly, he dropped the second piece and finished the tea, brushing himself down to free any lingering crumbs and standing. With a tug to readjust his brown suit coat--a gesture that always made him feel more dignified, even if his appearance was much too young to completely carry it off--he murmured, "Right, then. Back to work."

Checking the console's readings, he frowned. They had clearly slowed but not actually stopped, and what was decidedly more strange, they seemed to be directly in the path of a wormhole. A small one, just big enough to fit one person, but the _strange_ part was that he didn't recognize the source, and given his memory, that was more than a little surprising.

Then several things happened at once. The doors of the TARDIS banged open, reminding him belatedly that he'd forgotten to lock them. "That's new. It's never done that before..." He checked the readings on the central console with the sonic screwdriver, but found no immediate reason for it--until he realized that there was a curled figure some distance from the battered blue doors, steam rising from his clothes and skin.

He didn't look healthy by most standards, but for someone who'd just traveled a significant distance through a very unstable wormhole of unknown origins, he was surprisingly... well, _alive_. Which begged the question of exactly what he was, though that was always a bad way to start a conversation. Who--that was the first question to ask. Everything else could be sorted out later.

Whatever his name, he gave the Doctor an uneasy feeling, partially because he was carrying a weapon, but largely because looking at him was like looking at a very slick and well-designed _bomb_ , only waiting for the right time and place to explode.

\----

His breathing was shallow and ragged, and Loki could feel a fine sheen of sweat cooling on his skin as he raised his head slowly, fighting the disorientation and nauseating pain as his body recovered from the trip. His eyes adjusted to the warm, rich illumination of the room--he'd lived on that black, arid wasteland for so long that light made his eyes ache, but he needed to survey and assess the dangers. This was war; there was no time for illness or weakness.

The location, he realized immediately, was _not_  the one he'd been expecting. He knew through his connection to Selvig exactly what the room at SHIELD headquarters looked like, he'd been instrumental in building the landing platform, after all... and this was certainly not it.

His wildly darting eyes found no sign of a threat, only one strangely dressed but otherwise unremarkable man. Had the machine malfunctioned? Had it spat him out in the wrong part of Midgard?

Standing now, Loki shifted uneasily, as wary and cunning as a cornered wolf. A dozen different scenarios played out in the manic chaos of his mind--possible routes of escape and ways to make use of this man toward that end, all depending on a multitude of other factors that might be in his way. Once fortified with ideas he turned a vicious, tight-lipped smile on the man in the brown coat. Killing him was the simplest route, of course.

\----

The Doctor was taken aback by the unmistakably feral look of his new passenger, and stepped past him as one would a growling dog. "I'm just... going to close these doors," he promised, speaking as slowly and calmly as possible, then doing exactly as he'd said. While he _had_  dealt with dangerous beings before--as often as three times a week in some cases--this one was something new. He clearly wasn't human. He'd just survived something that would have killed a human at least twice over, and even though he looked a bit like a walking corpse with a leather fetish, the Time Lord had the distinct impression that most of the damage had been done before he'd ever leapt down the proverbial rabbit hole. He appeared to be operating on a mixture of pure animal instinct and the deadly, furtive brilliance that came to those who'd survived a great deal and were determined to continue the trend, and he was holding a piece of alien technology that was obviously designed to kill. All in all, it was a bad combination, and not one he was pleased to be sharing a confined space with.

"So! Very nice to meet you, though I have _no_  idea how you ended up here. If I had to guess, I'd say you were on your way to somewhere else and we just sort of... scooped you up in passing. Which is odd, but I've seen odder--ask me about the mating rituals of the Caulorus Verendi some time." No smile from the man, not even a look of bewilderment. That was a bad sign, and the Doctor smiled faltingly at his own wit. "Yes. Well. Anyway--you've probably had a long trip and I was just having lunch if you're interested in joining--"

He broke off as the man readied his weapon, and quickly raised his hands to show he was unarmed. The sonic screwdriver was still held against his palm, but there was nothing threatening about that, and thankfully the... whatever he was didn't seem to take particular notice of it. "...No, then? Fair enough. Mind if I ask you a question? Before you do whatever it is you're clearly thinking about doing, I mean? Where did you get that..." As he spoke, the Doctor turned the thin metal device around so that he could use it, still holding up his hands in the traditional salute of the unarmed to the very threateningly _armed_. "...very interesting, very... _pointy_  sort of... thing you've got there? I mean, I've covered most of the universe and who knows how many points in time, but I've never seen anything quite like that." As he spoke, he was walking forward very cautiously. "It's an interesting gadget, and I _like_  interesting gadgets." He'd been gradually lowering his arms as he went, and had somehow managed not to die yet. That was promising. "See?" he said, holding out the sonic in his closed hand and flicking the switch quickly.

The room was filled with a blinding concussion of ominous blue light.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki had set aside his murderous intentions for the moment in sheer amazement at the man's ceaseless chatter. He was still woozy from the trip and simply keeping his feet was challenging enough, but his strength was returning even it if wasn't happening as quickly as he might like. There was no indication of a threat so far and he felt no particular need to rush.

He'd _almost_  taken an interest in the strange silver device being extended to him when he heard the "click" and felt the scepter buzz with building energy, then there was an explosion of light and a sharp pain jolted through his arm as the weapon clattered to the floor. Loki was knocked back, his ears ringing, and it took a frustrating length of time to even sit up again. As he did, he saw the other man sprawled in a similar position across from him, rising slowly with a baffled, owlish expression on his long face. The scepter lay between them, but just as the Asgardian dove for it with a low, unconscious snarl, the entire room shifted until it bumped against the other man's hip, easily within his reach.

Holding his numbed arm at the shoulder Loki sat back again heavily, staring at his prize with barely-disguised longing as it fell into the hands of the enemy--and he _did_  consider him an enemy now. Whatever that "gadget" of his was, it had clearly just been used as a weapon and now he was disarmed except for his daggers and his wits.

\----

The Doctor didn't like the feel of the thing, nor the way it seemed to tug at his mind, seeking a way in with promises of unlimited power and dominion. If not for the necessity of keeping it from his visitor's grasp he would have thrown it down in disgust, taken it to the nearest star, and tossed it in to burn.

Damned good thing that the sonic had somehow caused an exceptionally... _energetic_  biofeedback when he'd only meant to get a reading, see if he could figure out what the thing was and where it came from. That the TARDIS had shifted to slide it closer was hardly surprising--she was very protective when she wasn't actively trying to get him killed.

"Well. How about that." He lifted the scepter and studied it as he got to his feet, wondering if he dared risk trying to get a reading again. Maybe with a lower setting, but... on second thought, no, it was probably better left alone. "Impressive craftsmanship. Does it ever give you a headache, how it tries to get into your head like that? I assume it works based on some kind of psychic bonding? I'd check for myself, but I don't like to explode something while I'm holding it. That just seems unwise."

The man unfolded himself gracefully and the Doctor noticed for the first time that he was taller. Not by much, but rather like a frightened cat he seemed to be trying through his posture to ensure that the height disparity was known. Not a game the Time Lord was particularly interested in playing, and he waited tiredly for the inevitable threat or demand that he already knew was coming.

"Enough of your antics," the stranger growled. "Give me back my scepter and tell me where I am."

A demand, then. Apparently the threats would come later. Still, he re-assessed the speaker, taking new data into account. His was the voice of someone who wasn't really accustomed to being obeyed, but dearly wanted to be. That reminded him vaguely of someone else, though the madness in the deep green eyes that glanced from him to the weapon and back again was more febrile and chaotic. Worse than that, they looked  _haunted_ , as if he'd seen much, much more of all the horrors the universe held than anyone should ever have to. He felt a spark of sympathy--he'd seen similar eyes looking back at him every morning when he brushed his teeth. He knew what it meant, and he understood a little of why the man seemed to be barely suppressing such a deep and incendiary rage.

"Sorry, no. I have a strict rule about advanced alien weaponry in the control room. I think it's best we just lock this away somewhere safe for the time being."

Truthfully, he wanted the damned thing as far away from him as possible--and twice as far away from the shattered madness of his seething guest.

"I could still kill you," the man noted cooly. The Doctor was used to threats, but gave him a long, steady look all the same.

"You could," he agreed, "but something tells me you won't. You're in a ship _light-years_  away from where you came from and probably just as far from where you were going, and if you kill me you lose any chance of seeing either one. Now, I don't really know where we're off to, but it might be a very long trip and I'd rather not share it with a _completely_  homicidal maniac if you don't mind. It's been a long morning already and I'm really not in the mood, so let's just start over again with basic introductions. I'm the Doctor, this," he gestured at the interior with his free hand, "is the TARDIS. I'm a bit disappointed that you didn't say the thing, which I always look forward to, but life's full of little disappointments. Now... your turn. Name?"

The rapid patter of the man was difficult to keep up with, and he only understood a portion of what was being said, but he clearly had the upper hand for now and there was nothing to be done but wait for an opportunity to change that balance. For now, he could only play along. "I... am Loki." It was said with no particular fanfare. He felt as if his will to fight and determination to rule was leaking away bit by bit, stolen by exhaustion and defeat. The man was right--he couldn't kill him without the risk of being trapped forever in this strange little craft. Damn everything. He'd _failed_.

The Doctor blinked rapidly in disbelief. "What, you mean your parents actually named you after the old Norse god of chaos? That's... unfortunate."

Scowling, Loki massaged his tingling arm irritably. "No," he snapped. "I mean that other people name their children after _me_." He thought for a moment. "And never call me 'old' again."

Again, the Doctor was forced to re-assess. "Oh, right--so you're the actual item, then?" He tried not to smile, but didn't have much success.

Loki rolled his eyes and gestured lazily with one hand. A duplicate now stood before the Doctor, teeth bared, and made a grab for the scepter. His hand passed through man and metal both, the image disappearing on contact.

"You forgot 'trickster' and 'mage.' I recommend that you don't."

He'd actually stepped back as the second figure grabbed for the weapon. Illusion, then. Somehow he doubted that was the only "magic" his new passenger was capable of. Given enough time, he could likely make a Time Lord vanish as well.

"Yes. Right. I'll... keep that in mind." He had to get the damned thing out of the room as quickly as possible. There was no chance at all that Loki would--or could--forget about it, but if the scepter was out of sight they might at least be able to carry on a conversation. And again there was that quick twinge of sympathy--given what it had whispered to him, who knew what it could promise to such a deeply damaged psyche? The thought made him shudder. "I'll be right back, just... wait there, and don't touch anything."

He disappeared through a nearby doorway, only to duck his head back in a few seconds later. "I mean that."

 


	3. Chapter 3

Once the scepter was safely behind closed doors and thoroughly locked to anyone not in possession of a sonic screwdriver, he made his way back to the control room, dusting his hands idly as though trying to rid them of something unpleasant.

The TARDIS' new passenger had apparently decided to have a seat and then promptly dozed off. Given the very obvious level of exhaustion--the Doctor hadn't failed to notice how he'd swayed on his feet even while threatening Gallifreayicide--it wasn't really surprising, and as long as he was sound asleep at the base of the central control mechanism, at least he wasn't getting up to mischief somewhere else. But what to _do_  with him? That was a question he couldn't answer without more information, and there was none to be had just now.

Setting the ship to hover quietly in space for a while, he rummaged through a nearby room until he found a blanket and an old, battered book, draping the former over the too-thin figure and perching on the steps at the other side of the central column. Sympathy notwithstanding, he didn't feel comfortable sitting within easy reach of someone who'd wanted him dead only a few minutes ago.

Still, he could keep an eye on him from where he sat, and after a few seconds of watching that pale, troubled face, the Doctor finally sighed and opened his book. Of all the strays he'd taken in, this was the most wounded he could remember and he _still_  didn't know what his intended destination had been. But he knew that Loki had been ready to destroy everything in sight as soon as he arrived, and it was a damned good thing they'd intercepted him. The Doctor stroked a nearby railing absently, feeling the subsonic purr of the TARDIS' engines. He should have trusted her judgment. There was no telling what disaster had just been averted, and if he was lucky, if he was very, _very_  lucky, there might even be a chance to save Loki from himself.

\----

There wasn't a single molecule of his body that didn't ache, and his dreams were a torrent of horrors that he struggled to tear away from. His head pounded dully and his mouth was dry, but at least the strange numbness was gone from his arm. More than anything he longed for real rest, but that was elusive, as always. His waking hours were hardly less unpleasant, and everything had gradually blended together into an endless nightmare with no end in sight. Only the scepter had given him any hope of freedom, and now even that was gone.

Loki didn't want to open his eyes, but his mind felt... strange. As if there'd been a layer of white noise there that was gone now, making thought less difficult but also bringing back old pains that he didn't want to re-live.

Gradually though, he did stir, eyes coming to rest on the curiously organic designs along the walls as he pushed aside the blanket someone had draped over him. It was an unconscious gesture, but he found himself staring at the thin, soft flannel belatedly in disbelief. When was the last time anyone had done such a thing for him? Frigga, he remembered--when he was still a child. He held onto that memory no matter how painful it was, even against the insistence from other parts of his psyche that he _had_  no mother, and certainly couldn't think of her as such.

"Oh good, you're awake!" The Doctor's voice was annoyingly bright and Loki clutched his head as it throbbed more viciously than before. Before he knew what was happening, a warm bowl of something that smelled _entirely_  too tempting was thrust nearly under his nose.

"Just the thing. Chicken soup. Cures all ills, well, maybe not _all_  of them, but close enough." Lowering the bowl as his guest only stared up at him in angry silence, the Doctor crouched to look him in the eye, speaking more quietly. "I know it isn't mead and boar or whatever it is Norse gods usually go for, but between the two of us you could clearly do with eating something. Before you topple over. Again." His steady, open gaze was comforting, or at least he hoped it was. Either way, Loki finally accepted the bowl and managed the impossible--eating chicken noodle soup without slurping. Maybe he really was a god after all.

As soon as he'd finished, Loki's empty dish was whisked away again with the quick insistence that he shouldn't try to stand just yet, which was perfectly fine by him since the pain in his head seemed unlikely to relent and he wasn't sure he dared test his legs. The soup had given him a warm sense of contentment, and he honestly didn't care to think how long it had been since he'd either slept or eaten. There had only been the relentless drive to complete his task. After _that_  he could rest, but only then. It had been that way since the first time he'd touched the scepter--and even thinking about the thing only seemed to worsen the ache in his skull.

As soon as he returned, the Doctor crouched again to address him more directly. "Headache? That would be the a cerebral reaction to detachment from a psychically bonded weapon. A kind of withdrawal phase, if you will--it got inside your head, made you dependent, kept you alive... Like symbiosis. It needs you, so it convinces you that you need _it_. But you don't."

Loki seemed to be listening, and that gave him hope. It wasn't too late. It was never too late, if only people--or in this case Asgardians--were willing to really _look_ at the lost souls they preferred to ignore. Teach themselves to see past all the walls that the truly damaged were so very good at building, offer them a hand, show them kindness. No, it was never too late. He had to believe that. After all, if there was no hope for them, there was none for him either.

"You're a Midgardian healer?" Loki asked dubiously. "That _is_  what they call you people, isn't it? 'Doctor?'"

"Not... exactly, no. I'm just the Doctor. And I'm not from 'Midgard.' Also, I find it kind of weird to call it that, so--Earth. Earth is where I'm definitely not from." He paused, and made the decision to trust him despite every instinct that warned against it. "I come from Gallifrey. Probably not in the Asgardian travel books. I'm a Time Lord. Not very different from your people, really, but not as much intervention in early human history and a truly sad lack of celebratory spirit." He quirked a smile but there was a lingering sorrow in his eyes that Loki understood immediately.

"Did they send you away?" he found himself asking quietly. The more they talked, the more the pain seemed to fade, and he was inclined to continue the discussion for as long as possible. "Your people? You joke about them, but I know a lie when I hear it--you don't think fondly of them, but you _do_  miss them." He could have used the knowledge like a blade, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Maybe it was only the headache rendering him stupid. Certainly it wasn't out of gratitude for a few petty comforts.

The Doctor sighed and took a seat across from his unexpected guest. "Nothing gets by you, eh? Well, of course it doesn't. I probably should've expected that." In fact, it had struck him like something cold and heavy dropping into his stomach. It wasn't often that people could read him at all, let alone in the first conversation, and he grimaced at being discovered so quickly. Either he was losing his touch, or he would need to be on his toes at all times with this one.

"No, they didn't send me away," he said, smiling sadly and staring into nothing. "They died. All of them. There was a war, and... The only way to stop it was..." He couldn't bring himself to say it exactly. It was the kind of thing you really had to work your way up to.

The Asgardian nodded in understanding and pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "Sometimes the only way to stop a war that threatens to destroy everything is to destroy everything yourself."

The canniness of the words struck the Doctor just as hard as the question had done, and he knew from the grim certainty in his voice that Loki had done, or at least attempted, something very similar. "Not quite sure I'd agree with that--not put _that_  way, certainly... But yes, something like that." The next bit was a calculated risk, but he was sure he wasn't wrong. "So, here we are, at the very first meeting of the Reformed Genocidal Murderers of Our Own Species. There should be t-shirts."

Against all expectations, his guest slowly smiled. It wasn't a particularly frightening smile this time, only world-weary and a touch bitter. "How about you?" He asked as gently as he could, but couldn't disguise his own curiosity. "They sent _you_  away, didn't they? Made you angry, resentful... Then you wandered into the very wrongest of the universe's wrong neighborhoods and you were stuck. Alone there in the very worst of all imaginable places." He could tell from the way the other man's jaw muscles tightened that he'd hit on the truth, but he wasn't done yet. "Then someone promised you something more than that. Not a home, not family, not returning anything that you'd lost, but the chance to replace it with something... better. Except, it _wasn't_  better. Not even close." The Doctor was reasonably sure that if he continued that line of thought Loki would simply attack and it wouldn't end well for either of them. Still, at least he knew part of the story--that was a start. And now it was time for a subject change.

Leaning forward, he studied the man earnestly. "It was Earth you were heading to, wasn't it? You called it a scepter--only a ruler would even need one, and _that_  one was clearly made with business in mind. Bad business. The worst."

After a long silence Loki raised his head, his lips once again twisted into a sharp, mirthless curve of humor. "And what makes you think I would confide in _you_ , Doctor?" His tone was more than half-playful but edged with malice as the smile broadened coldly, and the Time Lord felt a surge of frustration--he'd been so close to reaching him! He should have stopped talking as soon as he'd touched a nerve, but never had learned when to hold his tongue. Usually that worked in his favor, but now he could only hope there would be more chances.

"I really didn't think you would, actually. Just thought it was worth a try." His own rueful grin was genuine and slightly lopsided, though there was a wariness behind it even as he stood and offered the new passenger--in no way could he be considered a companion--a hand up. Loki ignored it and struggled to his feet alone, only to stagger on the very first step and swear under his breath.

"It can't be easy, can it, to feel you have to live up to some impossible ideal of health and strength when you've been through so much? Rhetorical question, that. Okay, maybe you did plan on conquering the Earth and maybe you didn't, but somehow you ended up _here_. And there has to be a reason for that. There always is."

Loki glowered at him, but the anger didn't seem to last. Something about the TARDIS, or maybe something about the Gallifreyan himself, made it hard to hold onto anger or hurt for very long. He felt annoying comfortable and irritatingly safe, but weighed down by the knowledge that it couldn't possibly last.

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked, struggling to disguise the amusement that bubbled up in spite of his irritation. The man tugged on the front of his suit coat and bounced lightly on his heels as though indignant. It passed quickly as he actually considered the question.

"Not often, no," he admitted. "And you're absolutely dead on your feet. See, this is what I was saying about psychically-bonded weapons! They make you feel great even when they're killing you. I've met women like that." He watched the unsteady figure try again to keep his balance before sighing and grabbing his arm, supporting Loki's weight as well as he could (and wondering how someone so painfully thin could be so heavy--chain mail underclothes?) and steering him out of the control room.

"Come on, your room is this way. You'll like it, it's got bunk beds."

Once his guest was asleep again and seemed likely to fully rest for probably the first time in longer than he himself could remember, the Doctor gave him one last, worried look and went back to the TARDIS console. The screen was still blinking its destination: Earth, the near future, post-invasion. This, too, was given a worried glance, and in his experience when there were two sources of worry on one ship, they were generally connected.

Post-invasion.

Something told him Loki wasn't working alone.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I'm travelling at the moment and other things got in the way. Plus Thor 2 tonight, so I may be a too giddy to write tomorrow. On the plus side, I have two chapters to post now!

For once, he didn't feel horrible. Nor did he feel the insane need to push past whatever his body was feeling for the sake of one single goal. Instead, Loki was refreshed, relatively calm, and briefly confused as he found himself staring at a set of polished wooden slats framing the bed above him. Whatever a "bunk bed" was, it was uncomfortably like sleeping inside a crate with another crate stacked on top. Why anyone would consider this arrangement a good idea, he couldn't fathom.

Still, he was finally well-rested enough to deal with the gibbering monkey in the bow tie, and by the time he stepped out of the shower, he was positively looking forward to it. 

\----

There was something off in the readings. The Doctor wasn't sure what or why, but things were... _wrong_. And rapidly becoming wronger. There were several possibilities for what could be causing it--like whatever it was that had driven them off-course in the first place--but he couldn't help wondering if it had something to do with his new passenger. It was almost as if just having him present was skewing probablity and driving events down a specific path. Granted, he'd seen stranger things, but it was weird all the same and that troubled him.

"Is there a problem, Doctor?" 

He jumped, one elbow hitting a switch that he hastily put back into place, trying to give the impression that it was entirely intentional and he hadn't been startled at all. Turning nervously, he ran a hand through his hair and checked that Loki was, if not exactly impressed, then at least open to the possibility that he still knew exactly what he was doing and was in perfect control of his freshly-minted limbs. To be fair, they were a bit longer than he was used to, and the knees and elbows were in the wrong places.

The Asgardian looked mildly amused, but said nothing.

"Sorry, didn't see you there." He faked a cough to cover his embarrassment and cast around for any topic other than the one foremost on his mind--his guest seemed much calmer, and upsetting him would only negate any progress they'd made so far. When nothing occurred to him immediately, he flipped up the data screen and gestured toward another panel filled with rapidly-blinking lights. "Something I thought might interest you. It's only basic data, you should have no difficulty understanding it--" Behind him, Loki rolled his eyes, but the Doctor remained oblivious, quickly going over what the different lights indicated. 

While he was perfectly capable of piloting the ship alone, an extra pair of hands never hurt, and since he was fortunate to have a co--no, not a companion. Absolutely not. Only a guest. A guest who was easily clever enough to handle a few switches and lights. 

Moving quickly around to adjust more gears and something that looked like a banana with an electrode at the top, he didn't even bother to look up as he said, "Now, say that back to me."

Loki sighed and recited boredly. Given the relative complexity of the instructions, the Doctor couldn't help being impressed, and favored him with his full attention and a restrained smile. Despite his obvious issues, there was probably no point in stroking his intellectual pride, no matter how well-deserved it was. "Very good! You got it on the first try. That's... actually never happened before." And now he was grinning, some small part of his mind imagining the possibilities of traveling with someone who might be able to meet him on the same level. Might even surpass him! It made him a little giddy to even consider that--it was almost like having a brother.

"Is this really necessary?" Loki broke into his pleasant thoughts with all the delicacy of a bee sting. Well, no friendship was ever completely perfect, and he hadn't exactly volunteered to go along on this particular trip... but he might, and the Doctor optimistically held onto that hope. 

"Necessary? No. Helpful, yes." He seemed to accept that answer, albeit skeptically. The Doctor held up his hands, fingers wiggling. "I only have two of these, and..." He counted quickly, "Ten digits. Could always do with more. And why are you dressed like a government agent?"

Loki's forehead puckered in confusion as he looked down at himself, then back to the Doctor--a rare moment of uncertainty that was quickly dismissed. "It's called a _suit_."

"No," the Gallifreyan insisted, " _this_  is called a suit." He adjusted his bow tie pointedly.

"I have absolutely no idea what that's called, but it should have come with an organ-grinder and a fez."

Bristling visibly, the Doctor stood with one hand on his hip. "Yeah? Well... at least I don't look like I should be partnered with Will Smith!"

Loki blinked rapidly. He understood the language, but the meaning was entirely lost on him.

"Will Smith?" the Doctor prodded. "You know--'I make this look _good_?'" The blinking continued until he grunted in disappointment. "We clearly have a lot to catch you up on."

Unbuttoning his coat, Loki had a seat on the steps nearby--and what was _wrong_ with his suit, anyway? Judging by the looks he'd gotten the last time he'd been to Midgard, along with the phone number of a delightfully long-legged creature who'd made him wish he could've tarried, other people liked it. Particularly people who happened to be female. Obviously the Doctor had no taste.

"I _don't_ intend to be here long enough to 'catch up' on anything. Will we be landing soon?"

Hand still on his hip as though forgotten, the Time Lord was once again leaning over the console, moodily making fine adjustments. This was the moment he'd been dreading, and he muttered something that Loki couldn't catch.

"Could you speak more quietly? I almost understood a word of that." 

"I said... we've already landed." The Doctor didn't sound pleased. As necessary as he knew this was, he was nowhere near happy about it. He would have to handle this very, very carefully, and that really wasn't his best skill.

Loki lifted his head, thoroughly attentive and waiting for further information, but it took a few seconds before the other man spoke again, sighing first. "And of course, you want to see what's out there. What's past those doors. Why we were both dragged out of our way to see whatever it is. But I have to say this first: You won't like it. _I_  don't like it... though for vastly different reasons. If you could just... consider changing your plan, right now, neither of us will have to go out there, and I'd like that, I really would..." But it was too late, and he could tell by the expression on that too-thin face. "No... I didn't think so."

"Doctor, I'm _sure_  whatever it is you're talking about makes perfect sense to you, but it's entirely lost on me." He was already approaching the door, leaving the other man scrambling to reach it first.

There was no point in asking if he was sure. Nothing so far had indicated that Loki was the sort to reconsider things, though the Doctor remained hopeful that he might--if not on this, then on more important decisions. With that hope in mind, he unlocked the door and twisted the handle, pulling it open. 

Together, they stepped out into the ruins of 21st century New York.


	5. Chapter 5

They weren't complete ruins, of course, only torn buildings here and there with scatterings of uncleared debris edging the blacktop; small piles of rubble and crumbled mortar that had clearly fallen from above. Under one broken brick was a crushed sliver of metal, and Loki, looking entirely baffled, approached it to examine.

It was--or had been--part of a Chitauri foot soldier's vambrace, and he turned to the Doctor in speechless confusion. "Where are we?" His tone was wary, the sudden surge of fear almost completely disguised. At the end of the alleyway, he could see people and cars moving quickly in both directions, as if nothing at all had happened.

The Doctor leaned against a signpost and took a sudden interest in his nails, almost seeming embarrassed. "A few days after your intended arrival."

If this clarified anything, Loki gave no indication of it; only of increasing anger. " _How_?"

Thumbing toward the TARDIS with a shrug, he explained as briefly as he could. "It travels in space _and_  in time. We're looking at your future." He smiled ruefully. "Think of it as the ghost of Christmas-yet-to-come."

Looking as if he wanted to kill someone but hadn't yet chosen a target, the Asgardian dropped the crumpled artifact and strode obstinately toward the end of the alley, pausing as something in a store window at the edge caught his eye. The Doctor quickly caught up, but only in time to see news footage of the battle--alien troops descending, a small group of strangely-dressed people facing them, someone who looked a great deal like Loki being led away from Stark tower in cuffs, and hundreds of Chitaruri troops falling from the sky.

Beside him, the taller man only stood silent, watching as if he couldn't look away. What little color there had been on his face seemed to have drained away so that only his eyes held any sign of life--and they were filled with absolute rage.

At the end of the news story were other details, including a location. Nodding grimly to himself, Loki turned to fix the Doctor with the most venemous look he could manage--enough that he stepped back a pace--and continued toward the street. 

Reaching out quickly, he caught the dark-sleeved arm and dragged him back. "You can't go out there, are you _completely_  out of your mind? You're the most wanted war criminal in the free world right now, not to mention an 'alien menace,' and--do you know, I honestly hate that phrase, but it _really_  does apply in this case--"

Shaking off his hand angrily, the Asgardian stopped and slowly smiled. As mad as he'd looked when he'd first arrived in the TARDIS, it was nothing to the shocking insanity of that smile. "Always nice to be wanted," he purred, his form melting easily into the shape of a very attractive, dark-haired young woman. 

"Alright," the Doctor said thoughtfully. "I'm impressed." Following the unexpectedly more petite figure onto the sidewalk, he couldn't help following up with, "You've _got_  to tell me how you did that."

His--her?--smile was enigmatic. "Magic."

"There's no such thing."

Loki clicked his tongue, glancing at the Doctor from the corner of his eyes. "And yet..."

"No," the Galliferyan insisted. "There _is_ no such thing as magic!"

His companion only shrugged. It was a very disconcerting gesture given his new shape. "Suit yourself."

Putting himself into the path of a cocky-looking man with an improbable haircut, Loki shifted his mannerisms to match his form, sounding almost sweet as he asked for directions to the place mentioned on the news feed.

"I'll give you directions," the man smiled, "if... you'll agree to a date? I know a really great place, no strings, just drinks, talk a litt--" He was cut off with an eye-roll and a small, perfectly-manicured hand around his throat, shoving him against the wall of the building near them and completely severing his air flow. The Doctor protested wildly behind Loki's back, unheeded. 

"I don't have time for this," he growled, though not in his usual voice, a fact which annoyed him enough to leave small bruises along the man's neck. "When I let you go, you _will_  answer my request, and then you will go _away_. Nod if you understand." The man bobbed his head quickly. His eyes were beginning to bulge. As promised, he was released, though still blocked in surprisingly well.

After coughing for a few seconds, he gasped out the directions and leaned bent against the brick wall. "Good!" Loki smiled. "And now?" Stepping back, he gestured open-palmed at the man and waited for him to go, but he was clearly too busy checking that nothing was broken. Stepping closer, he caught blood-shot eyes and spoke with a deadly calm that would have translated perfectly in any voice. " _Leave_."

With a last fearful glance, the man moved as quickly away from him as he could manage without actually running. 

"Have you ever considered just buying a MAP?" the Doctor yelled. 

"That was faster."

"Fast... oh, I cannot _believe_ you. What in the hell kind of family did you even come from to think that _that_  was _anything_  like an okay thing to do? Or... _this_?" He waved a hand angrily at the broken buildings along one side of the street.

Giving him a warning look, Loki bared his teeth. "Since I haven't actually _done_ it yet, how can you expect me to answer for it?"

The Doctor lowered his hand in resignation. He couldn't argue the point, and given the Asgardian's current mental state, it worked against his interests to agitate him further. "Fine," he said as they resumed walking. "At least tell me where we're going."

They'd reached the overlook at the edge of the park, and Loki approached the green-painted railing as if it might be poisonous, hesitating before letting his palms rest on the cool metal. Below him, he could see a paved circle and brick-lined paths stretching out from it. Cars were parked nearby, one large truck backed up to the edge, and now-familiar figures were scattered among the faceless black-suited SHIELD agents that seemed to stand around purposeless and waiting.

"Here," he said vaguely, eyes fixed on the movements below. They weren't alone, of course. Other people trickled in to watch as well and slowly surrounded the two of them, but he didn't seem to notice any of them.

Below, the Doctor saw most of the same faces he'd caught on the broadcast, now wearing relatively more normal clothes. "Tony Stark! Terrific guy. First man I've ever met who could sketch out a quantum engine while _completely_ blitzed, in a night club, at 3am. Terrible dancer, but I still have the sketch somewhere. Did it on a napkin, very impressive--never had the heart to tell him it wouldn't work, of course, but still a marvelous design."

"He still looks the same," Loki murmured. The Doctor assumed they were both talking about the same person, failing to notice that those re-shaped eyes were firmly focused on a tall, blonde-haired figure in silver armor, inexplicably trailing a red cape behind. In front of him was an eerily familiar man in black and green, hands bound in front of him and wearing a silver muzzle.

Loki watched without speaking as the Tesseract was loaded into the small glass device and both figures vanished in a blur of pale blue light. For a few seconds more, he was silent and unmoving. The crowd slowly dispersed, and the Doctor wisely held his tongue. He'd finally worked out who Loki had been talking about, just in time for him to spin and grab the front of the front of the Time Lord's coat.

"You _knew_  why you were bringing me here! You _wanted_  me to see this! Why? To turn my defeat into some kind of cautionary tale? 'Mend your ways or this will be the result?' This, from a man who admits to killing _his own people!_ Your hands are even dirtier than mine, yet you presume to judge _me_?"  


Disgusted, he shoved him back and stormed off into the crowd, leaving the Doctor to catch up yet again.

"That went well," he muttered drily to himself as he jogged to catch the small figure, finally meeting up just as he turned the corner and shifted back to his usual form. "Look, I had _no_  idea why the TARDIS brought us here until we'd landed! Do you honestly think this was on my itenerary? See the Statue of Liberty, picnic in Central Park, and, oh by the way, don't forget to watch the cleverest man you've probably ever met get arrested?" 

Loki stopped, one hand on the door, scowling in disbelief at what he'd just heard.

The Doctor smoothed his rumpled jacket and his pride. "Well, celeverest apart from me, of course, but you know what I meant."

For a second, he seemed to hover between two emotions before raising his head to give Time Lord a hard look. "You really should learn when to stop talking," he said coldly as he stepped inside.

 


End file.
